Chalo Pakistan!

Crossing the border into the mountainous, Islamic heartland of Pakistan, I decide to settle down in Lahore for a while, catching up on my writing, wandering into mosques, ripping up Government Travel Warnings, and gleefully throwing them over my head like confetti.

“Chalo Pakistan!” (Hindi for “Go to Pakistan!”) is a common insult in India–a bit like telling someone to f@%& off.

After Pakistan’s secession from India in 1947 (and the three wars that followed), neighborly tensions have run high. This animosity is most visible (and whimsical) (and entertaining) at the Wagah Border closing ceremony, where both armies dress up in costumes and silly hats and scream at each other with microphones. Then afterwards there’s an informal dance party.

For a trippy flashback of Monty Pythons ‘Ministry of Silly Walks,’ Youtube ‘Wagah Border Closing Ceremony,’ and watch any of the videos.

I was informed by many concerned family members and friends that Pakistanis hate Americans. And while none of them had ever been to Pakistan before, they seemed very certain of this.

I mean, many Pakistanis support the Taliban, and Osama Bin Laden was hiding in their capital…

Upon crossing the border, however, I met a very different reception.

The gruff-looking, turbaned custom officers called me ‘dear.’

Then, at the border closing ceremony, a total stranger bought me a Pakistani flag souvenir as a gift.

During the abrupt dance party, a crowd of locals cheered for me to join in their hip shaking, and when I embarrassingly did, I received screams of applause and a line of people requesting to take photos with me.

On the cab ride to Lahore, another total stranger paid for my fare without any explanation at all.

“You are welcome in Pakistan,” he smiled, before walking off with a nod.

Instead of being hostile, everyone I met was embarrassingly hospitable. All the Travel Warnings were starting to look ridiculous. Maybe they were hiding something…

… and then I saw this…

One of the first things you notice when walking the streets of Pakistan is that there are almost no women. The Islamic purda system, which stresses modesty and the upholding of the woman’s honor, strongly discourages women ever leaving the house.

And while most Western women find this concept horrifying, many of the (elusive) Pakastani women I’ve met say they don’t mind. When I asked why, one older woman exasperatedly shook her head. “Where would I even go?”

Lahore is the cultural capital of Pakistan, and the once glorious seat of the Mughal Empire, which ruled from Kabul to Kolkata. While the empire has long since deteriorated, its legacy remains in massive, grandiose monuments scattered throughout the city, and serene Mughal palaces sit conspicuously amidst the crumpling concrete and the congested traffic of rickshaws and donkey-carts.

The Badshahi Quila, Lahore.

Children dwarfed under the enormous fort, Badshahi Quila.

Pakistan sits at the crossroads of Central Asia, the Middle East, and the Indian subcontinent, and accordingly, has been invaded and conquered from every angle. Aside from the Mughals, Pakistan has been ruled by the Persians, the Afghans, the Arabs, the Hindus, the Sikhs, as well as Alexander the Great from Greece, Genghis Khan from Mongolia, and Tamerlane from Central Asia. And while this doesn’t speak well for the Pakistanis’ defensive abilities, it certainly makes Lahore a nice place to wander through the pages of history, seeing a millennium’s worth of Imperial conquest squeezed into a city block.

Persian and Mughal influences collide, the Wazir Khan mosque, Lahore.

(A footnote on the stellar wardrobe: Seeing as a lot of Pakistanis mistaken me as a Pashtun (or sometimes as an Afghani), I’ve decided to adopt the local dress and try my best to blend in. This spring’s fashion is a black salwar kameez, with a fancy kadhai embroidery on the chest, and an itchy, palm-woven Muslim scull cap.)

The influence of Islam affects all aspects of life in Pakistan. And while the Western Atheist might find this upsetting, it’s actually quite nice for visitors, and the Islamic priority on hospitality helps make the Pakistanis the most affable hosts I’ve encountered thus far.

Young children studying the Quran at six in the morning, Wazir Khan mosque.

Islamic art avoids depicting the human form, and instead focuses on abstract, geometric design. The effects can be stunning.

Patterns and detail, Wazir Khan mosque, Lahore.

Perhaps the most evocative element of Islamic art is the architecture, and the use of tile inlay, pietra dura, and the ubiquitous, Alladdin-esque bulbous domes. And while such architecture can be found across the Middle East, it’s reached its most epic scale under the Mughals of Pakistan.

The massive Badshahi Mosque, Lahore.

For Muslims, cleanliness is next to Godliness. Before entering a mosque, one must perform ablutions, and according to Sunnis, this involves: washing both hands, rinsing your mouth out (I doubt that’s filtered water), sniffing the water and then blowing it back out through your nose, washing in between your fingers and toes, washing your beard, washing each limb three times, and then (ideally) brushing your teeth with a miswak stick.

The elusive girls of Pakistan make a cameo at the Bashahi Mosque, Lahore.

In the more conservative areas, taking photographs of women is a grievous offense, and even if the woman is just passing in the background, it can possibly result in physical violence.

When I first asked these girls if I could take a photo, they brusquely said ‘No’ and stalked off. A few minutes later, however, they seemed to have a change of heart, and came back to ask if I’d please take their photo…

Then suddenly everyone in the mosque started asking for photos, and a small crowd formed.

One Pashtun man made his veiled wife and children pose, and when I showed him the result on my LCD, he delightedly tried to give me money.

Lahore doesn’t come alive until after sunset, when the heat subsides, the people take to the streets, and plumes of smoke waft from street stalls on every corner…

If you’re lucky enough to find yourself in Lahore on a Thursday, you’ll probably hear the distant wailing of qawwali singers…

Qawwali is Urdu devotional singing, and is absolutely spectacular to witness. The songs are improvised around a loose raja (framework melody), with a few lines of a set refrain that background singers will repeat after each verse from the lead singer.

Qawwali is Islamic Pakistan’s response to free style gangster rapping. And it’s just as amazing as it sounds.

The qawwali is broken into three parts. First is the Jalap, where a harmonium plays and the singers perform freestyle verses and perform vocal acrobatics. Then the refrain kicks in and the tablas start to pound, leading to the Johr. During the Johr, the song picks up momentum, until the singing breaks out into the fast, emotive shouting of the Jahal. The Jahal is the climax of the song, where the refrain is screamed at full volume and the tablas are pounded within an inch of their lives.

Then the song ends abruptly.

This is an example of the Jalap. The guy with the red cap made my ears bleed, and it was awesome.

This is a good example of the Johr.

During each song, people shower the singers in donation money. But they don’t just hand it to them. No, no. They throw it in the air, throw it in the singers faces, or in the case of this video, creepily rain it over their balding friends.

The Jahal, the finale of the qawwali. I love the man’s smile as he flings his cash into the air. And also the massive mound of bills they have to pick up at the end…

After two restful weeks in the city, I’m recharged and ready for more misadventures. Joining my local friend, Zakir, and a French backpacker, Barbara, we pack our bags and head north into the jagged Karakoram mountains, to the volatile border of Afghanistan, to catch a psychedelic tribal festival in the fringes of Taliban country…

I think it was a very good idea to take two weeks to acclimatise yourself to Pakistan, get your bearings and hatch a bit of a plan. And take some spectacular photographs. I gasped at the beauty of the two women walking in the dust motes of the nearly deserted street, and wanted to sit with the old man, and watch as he wrote – the detail, composition, it;s beautiful.

Haha You’re awesome. What a unique, and refreshing outlook on life and travel.. and thanks for bringing us along for the trip! While you were there, did you see any foreign women traveling alongside you? I wonder how the trip might be different if your were a woman. I want to buy some of those amazing fabrics the women are wearing!

First, I admire you bravery and ability to pursue your adventurous spirit. I know what it means when people misinterpret another people , culture or country based on what others say or heard or what the media says.This post proves that to say something about someone or something, you need to be there and experience it for yourself which you did. You showed everyone the beautiful part of Pakistan through your eyes. This I’ll remember, “You are welcome in Pakistan,” he smiled, before walking off with a nod.” There is hope and kindness in all of us.

Steve, Your blog is fascinating! I love this post. The showering of money onto musicians? Seriously cool. I’ve obviously been performing in all the wrong places all of my life, and clearly should have been born a man in Pakistan (or, are women allowed to sing and perform in public respectably there? Per your earlier comments about them not allowed to going out, I assume “no”)
So, I have about 1 million questions for you about this grand adventure you are on. Here are only two.
#1. How do you find internet connections fast enough to edit and post all of your photos & videos while you are living in all of these remote places?
#2. Do you have a natural ability to speak and understand multiple dialects or are you travelling with a translator?
#3. (naturally I lied about the 2 questions) You mention very briefly you are travelling with two friends currently. One of them named “Barbara” we can probably assume is a woman. Is she allowed the same privileges and access you have to attend events (such as the performance you filmed), enter the mosques, take photos, etc.? – MoSop

Thank you!! And I’m highly impressed by your discerning and interesting questions (love it), I’m so glad you’ve asked! I’ll start with your first, informal question about qawwali. Sadly, no, women women traditionally are not allowed to attend performances in the shrines, nor are they allowed to perform. Don’t let this discourage you, however, there are brave, independent women who have wrestled this issue before you: (http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51c9hJVDUCL._SX500_.jpg).

As for your other questions:
1) To quote myself from an earlier response to this question: I’m traveling with a Macbook Pro (NERVE WRACKING), and I’ve bought a 3G net card that lets me upload my pics at glacial speeds, assuming I’m in a city. When I’m in the mountains, however (which I’m heading to soon), I don’t know what I’ll do… I think I’ll be quite screwed.
2) Oh, the luxury it would be to have a translator! (though I’d probably have less amusing stories, as I wouldn’t get myself into as many ridiculous situations). I have a fascination with languages and make a strong effort to learn the languages of the countries I visit. I have a neanderthal grasp of Arabic, Hindi, and Urdu, which helps me in Pakistan. As for my upcoming stint in China, I’m already listening to ‘Learn Mandarin’ audio lessons, and laughing sophomorically at the presenter’s accent.
3) Barbara is a foreigner in Pakistan, and thus the people don’t hold their cultural rules to her. She was allowed to attend the qawwali because we’re friends with one of the organizers (she didn’t end up going, however).

Cool! Thanks for all your answers. Of course, you have now released the floodgates. I will likely be asking hundreds more.
1. You are a brave man with that Macbook. How do you keep it recharged? Has there simply always been electricity everywhere you’ve been so far? What kind of adapter did you take? Do you have some sort of a solar panel? (hmmm…yes, I can see many potential challenges ahead in the Mountains…. and my “mother alarm” is going off).

2. I imagined in India there must have always been someone around that knew some English (no? yes?), but Pakistan not so much. Good luck with Mandarin! I believe each region and village has it’s own dialect.

3. It’s interesting that foreigner women are often held to different cultural rules. Lucky for travelers. Is Barbara actually backpacking through Pakistan alone? Do you see very many women backpackers at all? esp. women solo backpackers? (I assume most women would not risk going solo)

1) Brave, indeed. Brave and constantly nervous. There’s typically electricity, but not always (esppeeecially in Pakistan, with their energy crisis). Normal adapter. Super-mega-bullet-proof-water-proof-impact-proof case for the Macbook is the only special provision I’ve brought along. Solar panels are too much weight, I’m packing LIGHT (http://backpackology.org/category/whats-in-my-bindle/)

2) Yes, many people speak English in India, especially the south. Pakistan, less so. And to make matters worse, there are sooo many languages in Pakistan that not even half of them speak Urdu, their national language. It’s tricky. Not as tricky as Mandarin though… And my experiences in China have revealed almost no one to speak English there! (Except Hong Kong).

3) Barbara is indeed backpacking alone, and after the Joshi festival, we went our separate ways. I believe she’s traipsing in the mountains somewhere near the Chinese border at the moment. And you’re be surprised: Almost HALF the foreign travelers I meet in Pakistan are solo female backpackers. (Then again, I’ve only seen/met nine other foreigners in the last month, and 4 of them were solo females) (one of whom was actually bicycling around the world by herself). And, ironically, it’s not so hard for female travelers here. In fact, locals think women need to be protected, so the girls I’ve met have received constant attention and help from Pakistanis. The cyclist was pretty much carried through the south by the good graces of strangers. Despite the media depictions (or my most recent depiction, oops), Pakistan is a very friendly country to travel.

Hey i would like to help you with answering some questions. Although there are no Pakistani female qawali singers. But there are proper singershttp://www.pakimedia.com/pakistani-female-singers.html
And not to be proud or anything but Pakistani’s are very good English conversationalist. Although just in major cities. The rest of the Pakistan, well most people don’t even know urdu. There are over 300 languages and dialects spoken in Pakistan, and even i was unaware of it, until I did research on it for my socio class. And yes foreigners are our guest and held in really high esteem. So the women are allowed equal privileges

And might i add, i absolutely love your blog steve. Your stories and adventures open up a side of Pakistan that even i have never heard of or seen.Please do visit soon. Would love to know more of your blogs. And i re posted it on fb, and made every single friend of mine read it. They are hooked to the stories just as I am. Kudos to you man!

Hahaha I’m glad you’ve enjoyed! Thanks for following along. And sorry for the late response, I’ve been on a semi-hiatus from blogging this summer and I was working on another project, but now I’m back. I’d love to visit Pakistan again, but I’m heading east! I’m making my way to the south pacific. I’ll let you know if I come back one day though. Thanks again for reading! I hope to hear from you again!